


Stay

by MonikerAmbiguity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x03 Coda, Guilty Dean, M/M, Unresolved Emotion, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikerAmbiguity/pseuds/MonikerAmbiguity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All because he was haunted by the three simple words, “You can’t stay.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

“You can’t stay.”

It was maddening…the thought just would not stop.  Growling through another breath, Dean rolls in his bed for the tenth time in an hour, willing the memory to break from the non-stop loop.  Why would it not shut up?

Every thought…hell, every segment of a thought that plagued his mind came back to the same recall.  Hurt, blue eyes burn into him and since the punch of guilt is only building, he knows he’s doomed.  There is no ignoring the gut-rot feeling leaching into him.

Dean opens his eyes and glares into the darkness before roughly throwing his blanket back.  He stands and, now upright in the silence, realizes that there is no proper course of action.  What can he do?

…He feels paralyzed.

Cas had left the bunker earlier that night, refusing any money that Dean had attempted to give him and went on foot.  It’s not as though you can kick an angel out and then ask after how they plan on getting around.

_Hey, man.  I know you looked pretty torn down when we found you—maybe you could go back to that for a while.  You know.  Make new friends.  Find out they are just one of thousands that wants you on the end of a knife.  It’ll be good times._

Now that ignoring the thought was no longer an option, painful things are happening to Dean’s insides.  If he lets it go on long enough, his nightly bourbon is likely to repeat.

If only there wasn’t an image attached to the taxing memory.  It is all in that god-damned expression.  The only word that comes to mind for it is…decimated.  It’s like he can slow down the moment and see every piece of hope break and fall away in Cas’s expression.  The whole point of their search earlier was to make sure that he was alright and they had front row seats in seeing the man stabbed.

_And now he’s back out there…with all of heaven wanting his blood…  Well, not just heaven.  There’s also hell…and all the other monsters…  I’m sure there’re even a few local nut-jobs that would love to have a go at him…_

“Son of a bitch!”

Violently pulling on his boots and throwing his worn leather jacket over his shoulders, Dean navigates the pitch-black room and makes for the bunker’s entrance.  There is no one in sight to stop his travel.  To be fair—it is four in the morning.

Jumping into the Impala, he tears off in the direction he remembers seeing Cas walk.  There is no music to lull him—no AC/DC or Zep.  There is no way he can drown out the worry, guilt and questions that roll around in his brain.  Well, maybe he could if they would just stop for a minute.

What if there was no way to catch up with him?  Would some other monster find him and flay him alive?  Where would he even stay?  …Where had he been staying all this time?  What if the “Angel of the Lord” fell at the hands of a cold or an infection?  What if he’s already out of dodge and he’s never seen again?

What if…he was sitting not 15 miles away on a fuckin’ bench?

When the realization finally catches up to him, it takes all of Dean’s attention to not drive over the curb as he pulls off just past him.  It doesn’t escape his notice that somehow the screeching tires and sudden movement don’t pull in Cas’s attention.  He doesn't even look up.

“Cas.”  Dean lets the word fall from his mouth not even a full step from his car.  He makes his way around her and is barely aware of the nagging voice echoing that he didn’t turn her off.

“Dean...”  Cas looks up, a startled expression taking over.  It turns stony and closed-off before his eyes travel past Dean to the car.  He stands slowly and then glances around as though looking for someone else, “What is wrong?”

“I uh…”  Dean shifts from foot to foot and suddenly realizes his lack of planning is going to bite him in the ass.  “Look…about earlier—”

Castiel’s shoulders slump and his face falls into a look that is decidedly more distressed than a moment ago, “No need to explain, Dean.  I…understand that I have again initiated—”  He shakes his head and tries again, “…The wrath of heaven is aimed at me and with your brother recovering and the mess I have already caused…”  Castiel pauses and looked around himself—there is nothing but uncertainty etched into his features.  It falls away and turns into determination before he continues, “I think it wise that I not be around to bring more havoc down on you.  Your decision was just.”

There is a tangible clamp around his heart, Dean is sure of it.  With every word Cas utters, it tightens just a bit more.  It’s starting to get hard to breathe.  “No…  Cas.  Look.  I DO need to explain.  I just…” Dean stutters, “…the thing is…  It’s just that…”  With every stumbled word, he soon realizes there is no way to get out what he needs to without exposing his betrayal to Sam.  Growling in frustration, he makes a desperate motion with his hands, “I just…I can’t have you here…right now.  Maybe down the road…”

A small smile tugs at the Cas’s lips, “Dean—you have been my friend when I did not deserve your loyalty and we have endured much together.”  His smile slips and he turns to walk away, “…but whether you will have me ‘cursed or not’, you were right in sending me away.  I will only bring you ruin.”

He is walking away and for every breath, Dean wonders if he’s inhaling glass shards.  Suddenly, all the trains of thought that would lead to the perfect words derail and Dean finds himself walking after the retreating form.  “Cas.  Stop.”

Castiel does not slow and instead gives a sad shake of his head, “You should go home, Dean.  Sam will need you.”

“Damnit, Cas!”  And suddenly Dean finds himself in a very unfamiliar position.  Dean’s arms are tightly wrapped around Cas’s waist and he is holding him, back flush with chest.  Typically, there would be a moment of panic, but Dean’s guilt has already driven him well past that emotion.

“Dean…?”

Dean can feel how uneven his breathing was.  His eyes are braced shut and he wills himself to calm down, but he can’t.  …He needs to get this out.

“Cas…I know I’ve said this shtick before.  Just hear me out.  ...I need you.  Not just as a friend...”  Dean takes another solidifying breath, “You have healed me, fought with me and stood by my side when I thought I was losing my god-damned mind.  You went against heaven for me and I’ve messed up just about every way a human-being can.  I don’t want you to leave.  …I…I don’t want you to leave me.”  He can’t help the humorless laugh that punches out and it takes a minute for him to calm the tremor in his voice.

“I _need_ you…with me.”

There is silence.  True to his character, Castiel stood perfectly still throughout the entire embrace and confession.  It is only when Dean seems to be at a loss for any more words that he carefully pulls out of the hold.  Gradually, he turns and regards Dean with an unreadable expression.  Not pulling any of Dean’s words into question, Cas can only provide, “But I can’t stay.” 

It is not a question.  There is no doubt.

Dean shuffles uselessly from foot to foot, eyes to the concrete.  He swallows thickly and tries to blink back the moisture gathering in his vision.  Cautiously, taking one last balancing breath, Dean locks eyes with his angel, “If…down the line.  I was to say ‘stay’…would you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive feedback is always appreciated. Many thanks.


End file.
